


let's face it, my family scene was not good

by DarchangelSkye



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, Music RPF, Panic At The Disco, Panic! at the Disco, Real Person Fiction, Rock Music RPF
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fever!Era, Gift Fic, Heart-to-Heart, Hotels, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Insomnia, Ironic Foreshadowing, M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play, Touring, Wordcount: 100-2.000, omg so new at this don't kill me, stage fright
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-17
Updated: 2014-10-17
Packaged: 2018-02-21 14:10:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2471060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarchangelSkye/pseuds/DarchangelSkye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I just want us to be good," the small voice had returned. "That we really belong. You worked so hard to build up this label, and bringing Panic to it, and if anything goes wrong-"</p>
            </blockquote>





	let's face it, my family scene was not good

**Author's Note:**

  * For [entangledbanks (summerhurleys)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerhurleys/gifts).



> 1\. For papertigers as his little!verse is so effin' cute and he wrote me [adorable Trohley](http://bammyjammies.tumblr.com/post/95056568867/andy-and-joe-having-a-relaxing-summer-evening-in-their)  
> 2\. Title ripped from [At The Ballet](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dyu--xC72jg) (I know, what is it with me and that song?) as I can totally see Ryan saying that even if the overall song really has nothing to do the fic *Jedi hand-wave*  
> 3\. Fever!era because current!Ryan is...well, current!Ryan :(

Pete's legs extended up the wall above the headboard while the rest of his body lay flat on the bed. The tip of a well-chewed pencil tapped the page of a notepad currently covered by scribbles resembling chord placements, and a faint melody breathed past his lips. 

_Maybe dip that to an A minor instead-_ he started on erasing one of the chords before there was a slow knocking outside. The pattern definitely told him it was one of the other guys instead of a stealthy reporter or wannabe-groupie, but what any of them needed at this hour...

One careful unlatching of the door later and Pete was greeted with the sight of Ryan with his head half-bowed, wearing a baggy tee and dark pajama pants and with his hands folded behind his back.

"Can I come in?" his voice was barely above a whisper, and Pete would have absolutely felt his heart break if he wasn't familiar with that tone by now. As it was, he smiled in warm sympathy and opened his arms for embrace. 

"Of course you can, baby."

These particular...moods, Pete supposed was the word for it, had come in on and off intervals since Panic was finishing off the record and preparing for the tour. Ryan was youthful-looking and quiet as it was, but extreme pressure could make him draw into himself and leave him looking and acting so vulnerable. 

As Pete learned more about the young man, things made sense to him. Ryan's home life being what it was, he had little idea of stability. Of course he had friends to turn to, but there were some things only family could provide, and his just didn't know how.

Out of love, Pete had offered to be that stability and comfort whenever possible. It didn't affect the rest of their relationship, business or personal, and he had to admit it did feel nice to be there for someone on a purely emotional level. 

Right now, he hugged around Ryan's slim waist while the young man's arms dangled limply and he gave a light sniff. Even if Ryan was often sad in his moods, he was still adorable. 

"I wasn't bothering you, daddy?"

Pete shook his head and gave Ryan's temple a chaste kiss. "No, sweetheart, never." The nickname was still taking some getting used to, and questions like that made Pete wonder more about the other man's family, but one look in Ryan's eyes would tell him some answers just couldn't be spoken.

"C'mon, Ry, let's sit down," he took Ryan by the hand to gently lead him to the mattress. Usually beds were too 'adult' to sit on during these moods, but the couch in this room was hard as a rock. It must've been the same in Ryan's room, as he willingly sat and grabbed a pillow to hold in his lap.

Pete chuckled. "Sure you wouldn't rather hug me?" He made a mental note to buy a small stuffed animal Ryan could carry in his pocket for the moments he couldn't be around.

Ryan looked up almost guiltily. "Sorry, daddy," he immediately scooted closer and latched to Pete's arm like a life preserver.

Ooh, he knew how to transfer that guilt (or else Pete was just a sucker for big eyes). "Oh, Ry, I was just teasin'. You hold that pillow as much as you want," Pete murmured in apology and smoothed his free hand down the young man's back. But Ryan didn't release his hold, only shut his eyes partly. 

"Hmmmm..."

Well, that noise was a good sign. Pete continued rubbing his hand in soothing circles while gazing over Ryan's form. Even in the most innocent of contexts, Ryan was truly beautiful. Some peoples' looks faded, especially in the dangerous world of rock'n'roll, and Pete was pretty sure he wouldn't escape that fate. But Ryan- he had that special spark to keep him beautiful forever, inside and out. And Pete couldn't help loving him for it.

When it seemed like the young man's breathing had calmed in pace, Pete murmured in question, "Why did you come in to see me, sweetheart?" Late at night in this mood, something had to be wrong.

Ryan sighed, fidgeted, and put a finger near his mouth as if to bite the nail before fidgeting again and dropping the hand to his lap.

"Butterflies. Can't sleep," his voice was still barely a whisper.

"'bout what?" Pete moved his rubbing hand to the back of Ryan's neck. Of course he could already guess what, but a different mindset meant a different way of talking. 

A few more soft breaths before the young man admitted, "Big crowds, daddy," and he gripped tighter to Pete's arm.

Pete smiled in empathy and shifted for Ryan to sit on his lap. Even if the height meant Ryan still towered a few inches above, it was a comfortable hold.

"Y'got stage fright, Ry?"

Tiny nod and a "Yeah," closer to his normal tone of voice, which meant he was starting to relax, but still quiet.

Oh, the stories Pete could've told about his own stage fright experiences. Even if his messed-up-ness came from an entirely different place than Ryan's, performance anxiety was damn universal. Not that the most intense of his feelings would be appropriate to talk about right now. He took a few quiet breaths to gather his wording and watched Ryan twiddle his fingers around. 

"Y'know I still get nervous before shows sometimes, Ry?"

The young man tilted his head in the expression of childish disbelief. "But...you're somebody."

Pete grinned to mask any laughter and hugged around Ryan's shoulders. Still the innocent who put him on a pedestal. "Still happens, baby. 'specially if it's new material or a really important event. You just want people to respect and accept you-" he felt a shudder in his arms and decided to just finish the statement with, "and you're worried about that."

Ryan briefly (thankfully) took similar quiet breaths. Pete bit his inner cheek on the worry he'd set off a panic attack or something. God, that was the last thing Ryan needed-

"I just want us to be good," the small voice had returned. "That we really belong. You worked so hard to build up this label, and bringing Panic to it, and if anything goes wrong-"

OK, time to bring some authority into this situation. Pete gently gripped Ryan's hands and shifted so they could be eye to eye. Two different tones of brown that held so many conflicting emotions.

"OK, Ryan, calm down and listen to me. Are you listening?" Nod-nod. "Good. Thinking like that doesn't make nervousness any better. You hafta believe in yourself as much as I believe in you," his expression softened in a loving smile. "And trust me, that's a lot."

Ryan's eyes stayed wide, as if trying to get himself to believe what he was hearing. 

"I picked Panic up because you _are_ good. You _do_ belong with us, and not just because you put on one hell of a show. Your melodies, your messages- people are going to listen to and believe them." Pete paused for breath again and to watch Ryan's expression.

He could tell that Ryan really wanted to believe what he was hearing- but one didn't have to be a genius to know that years of god knows what had battered the young man's esteem to pieces. It was hard to listen to the truth while trapped in a dark cloud.

Pete bit the inside of his bottom lip, thinking of an appropriate approach for Ryan's mindset. He doubted he would ever be a father for real at the rate he was going- that happened when you had the mental stability of Jello in an earthquake- but showing comfort and support to someone you loved was part of that, right? 

He smiled and cupped a tender hand to Ryan's cheek. "I'm proud of what you've done, sweetheart...what you've got deserves to be shared."

Pete felt the young face relax in his hand at the 'proud'. Yep, best words in the world to hear. "Thank you..." The voice was still soft and vulnerable, but loving. Ryan leaned close to hug around Pete's shoulders and breathed softly.

Ooh, heart-melt. That wasn't just being a sucker, that was truly feeling love. Pete returned the embrace, rocking Ryan slightly. He murmured in question, "Tell y'what, would it help if I watch from backstage? Knowing I'm there?"

Ryan hummed for a moment in thought, then: "At least for the last song...so you're the first thing I see when we get off."

"That I can do," Pete squeezed his hug, though he mentally noted to stay for before that.

At this point in the embrace, Ryan had slid his body down a bit for his head to rest on Pete's shoulder, and the older man could swear he felt a gentle "love you, daddy," murmured into his skin.

"You know I love you, sweetheart," he smoothed down Ryan's hair and patted his back. And damn if he wasn't going to mean it for a long time. "You think you can sleep now?"

"Yeah," Ryan pulled back and looked over the mattress. "Um..."

Oh, right, the bed-sharing thing. Make like a parent again and improvise. Pete looked around the room and saw the knitted afghan draped over the back of the sofa. The cushions may have been hard, but that shouldn't be. He got up to wrap said afghan on him like a cape- not very heavy but at least soft- and sat back on the mattress with a goofy grin. "There, blanket's all yours."

Ryan laughed, the low and soft sound that was a rare treasure. "Silly daddy," he shook his head but smiled as he pulled part of the covers over himself. 

"M-hm," Pete flicked off the room lights and laid down so there was about half an arm's length space between them. He watched Ryan's cheek settle on a pillow, eyes slowly closing as if checking that Pete was still there. 

Being young at heart was a good thing, especially with someone there for you.


End file.
